Pizza good news

Yesterday was a stressful day.  It really shouldn’t have been as I had an unexpected day off.  Having not slept well the night before, I laid in and then was dashing about to go shoe shopping.  As shopping goes, shoe shopping is relatively pain free but not without its perils.  A peril I had entirely overlooked though was forgetting my purse.  I had to go all the way home again and then go back.  I was already feeling a bit wretched about myself and this nearly broke me.  Back I went however.

What this meant was that I was in a shopping centre having just had berries and FF yoghurt to sustain me and with no idea what I could have for lunch.  I was so hungry I felt sick and dizzy but with a WI this morning, dared not eat anything.  What I really wanted was a Franco Manca pizza.  These are amazing if you’ve not had them – proper sourdough crust with a smear of topping so relatively healthy for pizza I’d assume.  But assuming was too dangerous to risk.  I’d not had my calcium extra so I had a skinny Starbucks frappuccino.  At 3pm.  And because I was about to collapse at that point, forgot to get a decaff – which of course meant I didn’t sleep well last night either.  Still, it kept me conscious for the journey home which, whilst a mixed blessing, is probably the safer course of action in my ‘hood (it’s East London so I’m totally allowed to say that).

I still mourn that pizza but.... well, SoD granted me an extraordinary 5lb loss.  Now, I did cheat a little in that I weighed myself post-dinner in the evening last week a few days before I had my period, whereas this was first thing and empty.  But given that I’d had to negotiate two lunches out and a party AND my recalcitrant blubber-hoarding body, this is in itself a little miracle.  AND I’d been fretting over spending some of my syns (*pause to shudder*) on a much anticipated chocolate bar yesterday.  At 10, it was only 2/3 of my allocation but I keep as many of them as I can to guard against wine (and gin) consumption at the weekend.  Not together, it’s not some cocktail.  I had 3 glasses of wine and a G&T over the course of the weekend – this is, in truth, slightly under a normal weekend’s consumption.  We’ll see.

I’m not enjoying the diet at all.  I do not like fat free stuff (the yoghurt that Linz likes is, to me, the consistency of gelatinous phlegmmy, sticky gobbing (not mine: I don’t gob)) and because the ‘all you can eat’ element of SW is carbs, I’m not getting that bonus side to it.  But you can’t argue with results like that.  I’m gritting my teeth and carrying on.

Perils ahead for this week: the wedding (all the usual concerns about food/drink, exacerbated with the temptation to drink out of nerves) and dinner at a friend’s house.  I think we can all see which one of these could scare the horses.  It certainly scares me. 

Long term forecast: Easter.  Season of chocolate and hot cross buns.  I have one small egg, will get one from P and one from the Secret Bunny at work.  It is also season of hiking which is not a reason to think I deserve chocolate.  It will have to be eeked out and synned (*shudder*).